


idiosyncrasy

by synergies



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, just even begrudgingly accepting that he is dad?, just some wholesome dad and son content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 21:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18225872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synergies/pseuds/synergies
Summary: Absence does not make the heart grow fonder, in Even’s case( Or, Ienzo makes a habit of disappearing, much to his chagrin )





	idiosyncrasy

**Author's Note:**

> Just some disgruntled dad Even having to look after Ienzo, more or less. This is pre bbs because I definitely wrote Ienzo younger than eight in this. Thank god canon is vague about when and how Ienzo ended up with the rest of Ansem’s apprentices.

### ( a peculiar habit of your being )

“Ienzo!” Even calls the child’s name, a grumble under his breath as he receives no response— since when had he been left in charge of the child? He has much more important things to be doing than babysitting brats. It was a task beneath him that should have been delegated to guards like Aeleus or Dilan instead. His footsteps increase down the hall, irritated; he hopes the boy has not managed to wander out of the castle, he has no time to search outside of the grounds.

If he cannot find him soon, he’ll have one of the others go after the child. He has already spent more time on him than he’s worth. Quite seriously. He respects his master, but he does not understand why the duty of looking over his charge has been handed over to him.

On the bright side, it at least appears like he has not been getting into places he isn’t supposed to— there has been more than one occasion they have had to scold Ienzo for getting into things that a child should not be touching— and if he were not so clever, he is sure the repercussions would be worse. But as it is, he is a sharp child, so they tolerate it, when something is likely to come of it. Even thinks they are fostering a bad habit in him, but he’ll digress; it is no concern of his, what manners they raise the boy to have.

He takes a moment to think about where he is ( he would prefer his search to be efficient, since checking every small room would be pointless, and worth more time than he would like to spare on such a meaningless task ). When he stops to actually put some thought into it, there’s one place that would be particularly likely at the moment; sets off with revigorated step and a scowl on his lips.

( For a genius, he could certainly be a downright moron at times )

For one, it should be important to note that Ienzo did not speak very much at all. Secondly, when he did, it was generally when he found it to be something important— well, in the realm of what children find important, like needing to relieve themselves or feeling irritated by something— and sometimes, it is rare they get even that much out of him; half the time the boy seems to have accepted that his guardians are too busy and independently fends for himself ( and they all wonder why Ienzo always seems to disappear on them ). And perhaps most importantly, he had a clear hierarchy in who he preferred to speak to. Master Ansem was his top preference, unsurprisingly, Even himself was second for some incomprehensible reason, and any of the others was dependent on the boy’s mood. Generally speaking though, Aeleus was preferred over Dilan, and Braig was usually only if no one else was around—what was the reason for his particular aversion, he did not know nor did he care to try and reason with the child’s thought process.

He remembers the boy had been trying to get his attention for something— he had brushed him off rather forcibly when he started tugging on his sleeves and getting on his nerves. He was pretty sure that was the point he had wandered off to find one of the others. Braig. He knew the boy hadn’t stayed with him long, mostly because again, Ienzo was usually averse to Braig, and when he did ask the man, he hadn’t a clue as to where the boy was. Of course he did not, Even had grumbled under his breath, how convenient; when did Braig know anything useful, honestly, it was unsurprising— that’s not the point, though.

If he really, really tries to recall what Ienzo had been asking about, the child had been complaining about being hungry. By process of elimination, it was logical to conclude that it was likely that Ienzo was still somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. Which meant he was probably fine— for a child, he was capable ( admittedly, that was probably less of a good thing than any of them would like to admit )— and while not out of trouble, most likely knew better than to try and do anything dangerous.

“Ienzo?” Even calls for the boy once again, as he steps into the kitchen; though he does not even need a response to know that he has found the boy, because there is enough of a mess that it is clear that he has been there. Unsupervised. He’s going to blame this one on Braig.

That said, despite the evidence present ( knocked over bowls, used utensils, the fridge door left half open ), the boy himself is not to be found obvious— he withholds a groan because he is not in the mood to play hide and seek with the child. Although that would imply Ienzo would willingly playing such a game, which ( as far as Even was concerned ) he was not likely to do.

Thankfully, the messy trail he has left in his wake is a pretty clear indication of where he has wandered off to. Even grumbles under his breath as he crouches down ( only for this boy would he be willing to do this, he swears ), annoyance in his features as he finds himself in something sticky. Sure enough, Ienzo sits underneath the table, looking upset for some indiscernible reason.

“There you are, child.” He is terse with the boy— he does not have the time to spare for niceties, grimacing when the hand that grabs onto his own is sticky and wet with something. Cleaning up is the first order of business, then; he won’t stand for the kitchen to be left in this state, nor can he let the boy stay dirty either. “Do you want to explain this mess?”

As expected, Ienzo does not utter even a word of explanation, barely indicates his thoughts with a shake of his head; a sigh as he puts the boy on the counter and reaches for a rag to clean him up with. He still cannot tell exactly what got everything all sticky, but there are other matters at hand— a quick observation tells him that the child has managed to get peanut butter in his hair, there are crumbs stuck to his face in what he suspects to be dried ice cream remnants ( given that he’d found more than a few wrappers when he’d walked into the kitchen ), a stain on his shirt that Even doesn’t even want to start guessing at. At least, even as the child sulks, he is cooperative in letting him be cleaned; though he suspects that is probably only because he has no desire to do so himself and will happily let the adults do so in that case. He whines a little when he’s a little too harsh with the cloth; apologizing to the boy without a second thought and attempts to ease up a little, what little he can.

And then there is a matter of cleaning the kitchen— he would love to track Braig down and force him to clean up the place, but Even fears it would never get done, if that were the case. Ienzo seems no rush to go anywhere, anyhow, so he can probably spare a quick clean up without worrying about him disappearing on them again ( if he’s lucky, the child might even doze off for a nap in the meantime ).

The time he spends cleaning is peaceful, all things considered; being back to working on his things is a more preferable task, but his desire to keep their living environment tidy is somewhat more overwhelming. It is perhaps only because of the silence that he hears the soft whimper that Ienzo lets out— a noise that demands his immediate attention, despite himself. Even puts aside the broom he had been using to clean before approaching the boy. “Ienzo?” He is not a gentle person; but all the same, his usual curtness with the child is absent as he kneels to be on level with him. “Are you well, child?”

“Even.” He whines, a small shake of his head in response as the boy latches onto him; and now that he is paying close attention, he can tell the disgruntled expression on his face is not that he is sulking, but upset by something.

“Are you hurt?” Yes-no questions are the best way to get an answer out of a child who speaks so selectively, who nods to confirm as much; the pained crease of his eyebrows helps convey that much. There’s a gesture that he makes with his hands that Even has to ask him to repeat—it takes less than a second for him to connect the way he gestures to his stomach to figure out the meaning he is trying to convey. His lips purse as he lets out a breath, posture relaxing ever so slightly as he peers down at the boy.

( He certainly had not been concerned that it was something serious plaguing him, of course not, that was a preposterous notion ).

“I can’t imagine what else you expected to happen after you ate so much. A stomachache is hardly anything to fuss about.” He chides, but decides to take pity on the child. Some tea should help settle his stomach, at least.

Besides, though he might loathe to admit it, he was partially to blame for the situation at hand; so he should take responsibility for the repercussions, despite the fact he did not see it his duty to be his caretaker. If he had spared even a brief moment to tend to what Ienzo had wanted, the boy wouldn’t have any reason to act like a starved child because none of his guardians would take care of his needs. In all fairness, Even would like to reiterate that it was beyond his comprehension why their master thought it was a wise idea to have him around adults who were far too busy to pay attention necessary for a child.

“What did Braig let you eat to get yourself this sick, boy?” He asks while he waits for the tea to brew; he can use his magic to minimalize the cooling time, but he can’t do anything to speed up the steeping time. For a moment, he does not think he is going to get an answer ( nor does he expect to, truthfully ), but he sees the slight movements of the boy’s mouth as he tries to voice thoughts.

“Not just Braig.” He mumbles, just barely audible. “Dilan and…”

Even doesn’t really need to hear the rest to have a good idea where this was going, and withholds a groan. He is not sure if he should be impressed Ienzo managed to get ( at least ) three different people to feed him, or concerned that they all deferred to his wishes so quickly.

( Ah, for a group of rather intelligent people, they really are all just fools in this child’s eyes, aren't they? How easily he had figured them all out )

He sighs, tea done brewing and now cool as he passes the cup over to the child; mulling over what to say to that. He buys himself a few moments to think while he brings a hand to check his face— even if they had established that this was a stomachache, it was probably best to be sure the boy wasn’t actually catching something ( and he pays no mind to the way Ienzo peers up at him silently, face partially obscured by hair and the mug that he’s holding up to his lips ).

They were all aware of how clever the child could be, although he’s not quite sure if this was particularly his intentions; nonetheless, this is not something they need a repeat of in the future. A normal scolding probably wouldn’t quite cut it, but he also can’t act like this had not happened.

“Child, I don’t suppose you feel like explaining what you hoped to gain by doing all that?” He huffs, tone dry; and of course, the boy simply just stares at him blankly. Very helpful of him. Alright, a different approach, then. “You can’t just do that every time something like this happens. You could have actually made yourself sick today? This is not something healthy to get in the habit of doing. And I cannot stress enough that there could have been actual risks that you exposed yourself to, Ienzo. I will acknowledge that, as your caretakers, we have clearly failed you, and for that, I have no excuse. Let us figure out a better way to see you taken care of without you going to such drastic measures, yes?”

Ienzo nods twice ( which is to say, more enthusiasm than is normal for him ), and he almost snorts at how ridiculous he is being;  but opts not to say a thing at all instead, waiting for him to finish his tea. His work is still calling for him, but he clearly has other priorities at hand and work unfortunately will have to wait. There is a tug on his sleeve as the boy holds out the now empty mug and he accepts it, turning towards the sink to place it there with the rest of the dishes— he freezes in the middle of doing so when he feels two lithe arms wrapping around one of his legs. Even spares a glance down towards the boy as he puts the cup away, something quietly being uttered from him; he doesn’t need to hear the words to know what he is trying to convey, nonetheless ( he appreciates that the child has better manners than most of his guardians, for he cannot name the last time he’s been thanked for anything ).

“That is hardly anything worth being thanked for. It is quite frankly, rather appalling that you have to set such low expectations of us.” He sniffs, reaching down to untangle him from around his leg; a sigh when he seems set on not letting go. “I still have work to do, boy. Besides, I believe Master Ansem would like to see that you are alright.”

He can tell the boy is still reluctant, so begrudgingly, he lifts him into his arms as he heads back towards the lab. “You are too old for these kinds of things.” He grumbles, but it is no use; Ienzo has already settled against him and hums to express his content, a warbled mumble that vaguely resembles his name. “Yes, yes, I know.” He sighs with a certain fondness— disgruntled as he may be, he cannot deny that he holds a softness for him.

That’s fine.

Even can make an exception for him.

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever consider the fact that Ienzo might’ve been the kind of child to act out? Do you think Ienzo would’ve been the kind of child to purposely get hurt, etc. because he understood how much danger it’d be ( optimally very little) and wanted attention? How well do you think Ienzo coped from going from two parents dying to three - five scientists that were essentially absentee parents?
> 
> If you're reading this, thanks for reading! Come be sad about Ienzo with me on [tumblr](http://starrihope.tumblr.com/) / [twitter](https://twitter.com/starrihope)!


End file.
